


Dearly Departed

by nerdythangs



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drugs, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Separation, Slow Burn, UST, Wall Sex, aged-up ciel, dirty talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdythangs/pseuds/nerdythangs
Summary: “We will manage fine without you, my lord,” said the soft-spoken butler.Ciel stared at his butler challengingly before he finally stopped fanning himself and took the cup of tea to sip it. It was perfect, of course. “Will you?”





	1. Prologue

The tension in the household that had built for the last week leading up to the Earl of Phantomhive's departure reached a breaking point the morning of that highly-anticipated day. Although the lord's trustworthy and reliable butler had seen to all of the preparations were either completed or delegated appropriately, Sebastian was reminded how vexing the rest of the serving staff could be.

“Bardroy, tell me that the young master's lunch is completed,” Sebastian demanded, walking past in a brisk pace to prepare his master's last mid-morning tea before leaving.

The embarrassed red and frantic movements already gave Sebastian his answer.

“I, uhm, it'll be--” a loud crash interrupted his excuses, “it'll be just a few more minutes!”

It was good that the cook's attention was on the food he was desperately trying not to mangle, for the butler's irritated glare withheld the fires of hell.

Finishing up the preparations of the tea, Sebastian set the delicate china onto the tea cart. He glanced around the kitchen and a vein in his forehead twitched in agitation. 

“Meyrin, that last nightshirt should already be in the young master's trunk,” Sebastian testily said, pushing the tea cart past the flustered red head.

The maid, frantically attempting to make the garment dry quicker than possible by flapping it faster and faster, squealed in a wavering voice. “I- ah, yes, it'll be ready shortly!”

The majestic eye roll this excuse provoked was not strictly part of his butler's aesthetic per se, but he was six paces past the maid anyway.

Sebastian only made it about two dozen steps before he stopped en route, glancing around the mostly empty foyer. “Snake, why are only two out of four of the young master's trunks down here?” 

Snake, looking slightly out of breath from bringing the two trunks down, began to sweat nervously. “The trunks are heavy and--”

“Enough excuses,” Sebastian nearly snapped, pushing the cart forward again, “everything will need to be loaded up in,” Sebastian whipped out his pocket watch, “forty minutes.”

“Y-yes--”

Sebastian didn’t wait to see which snake he was speaking for, and rolled the cart out into the garden where the young master was waiting. 

On his journey there, he saw what looked like a battlefield of flowers in an ungraceful heap, with a frazzle gardener in midst of it. 

“Finny, does Miss Elizabeth's bouquet have both white and pink peonies in it as I instructed, and why isn't it already ready in the foyer?” Sebastian called to the fumbling gardener as he made his way to the outside patio.

Surrounded by only cut pink peonies, Finny blanched. “Y-yes, Mister Sebastian! Just another minute!”

Sebastian relaxed his crushing grip on the tea cart, less he dent it in his frustrations. Again.

Passing the Japanese garden, he saw the stewart trimming a bonsai tree.

Sebastian paused and scrutinized the work, “Tanaka.” 

The old man stopped mid-cut and raised his head expectantly, sunlight glinting off of his monocle. 

A moment of silence passed between them, with a gentle breeze that punctuated the moment.

“Good work. Carry on.” 

Sebastian left as Tanaka bowed with a smile.

The cart vibrated noisily as he made his way onto the gravel and towards the gazebo where his young master awaited him. The cups jingled precariously and any other person might have had difficulty making sure the piping hot tea did not spill over. But what kind of butler would Sebastian be if he could not accomplish this simple task?

Sebastian approached the gazebo and took in the luxurious sight before him as he made his slow ascent up the hill. Looking ostentatiously bored, the Earl of Phantomhive laid out in an undignified sprawl on one of the upholstered benches. Surrounded by exotic plants hailing from several continents, he was the picture of privilege and breeding while fanning himself slowly with his eyes closed. The incongruous juxtaposition of peace and stillness surrounding the little lord did not escape Sebastian, as he studied the Earl’s figure doing absolutely nothing while the entire household scrambled to set everything up for his departure. Sebastian could not help the curl of his lip as he reached his destination.

How divine.

“You’re late.” 

“My sincerest apologies, my lord,” Sebastian said with a hand on his heart and a small bow. 

Ciel’s eye creeped open to regard his butler for a moment, before closing it again. “Is everything ready?”

Most people would not notice the slightest stalling of moments as Sebastian readied the tea, but Ciel did. “Nearly, my lord.” 

Sebastian looked up to hand the tea to his master, when he saw an unadulterated smile on the brat’s face. 

“One would think…” 

Sebastian, still with the cup extended to his master, cocked his head in confusion. 

“...with your struggle arranging for my departure,” that damned eye opened, glinting with mirth, “that you were not capable of managing the staff.” The Earl’s voice undulated with amusement, raking the demon’s nerves.

There was a pause, while Sebastian took a breath lest say something rash.

“We will manage fine without you, my lord,” said the soft-spoken butler. 

Ciel stared at his butler challengingly before he finally stopped fanning himself and took the cup of tea to sip it. It was perfect, of course. “Will you?” 

The question rang like a bell in the air between them, speaking unvoiced words despite its casual tone.

Sebastian’s propriety was at odds with his desires, but he reeled in the latter to let his default smile grace his lips. “We will manage.”

The chink of china as the cup and saucer was placed on the table sounded louder at that moment than it ever did in the privacy of the young earl’s study, and the sigh that followed spoke volumes. “I do not want to go.” 

“I know.”

“I should not have to go.”

“Au contraire, mon seigneur.” 

“But--” he paused to rub his eyes in frustration, “to tour the countryside?!” A rather undignified sound escaped his lips, as Ciel crashed back on the bench again, not bothering to hide his pout. “This is the most ridiculous and time-wasting thing I can possibly think of. Do English nobles really have nothing else better to do other than spend time in one another’s company while talking about nothing but themselves? Isn't this past-time rather antiquated?” 

“The Midfords insisted that you join them, my lord. You cannot back out now.” 

Small hands pounded at the cushions of the bench in frustration. “But I have things to do! I have a company to run! I can’t just be on holiday for three months!”

“I have packed your financials and will mail anything needing your attention.” 

“But what if the Queen needs anything?” Ciel shook his head disbelievingly at the ceiling. He would never admit it, but he was whining now. 

“The Queen’s butlers will always find you, you know that.” 

Ciel looked at his own butler. “But you--”

“Master Ciel!” A voice called, interrupting them.

They both turned towards the gardner, running up the small hill. “Mister Sebastian, Master Ciel! The Midfords are here!”

Sebastian flinched, and checked his pocket watch. “They’re early.”

Ciel grumbled something that sounded like “Lizzie” and “excitable” as he slowly sat up. 

“Shall we?” The young lord mumbled, monotonous and irritable. 

Sebastian would have laughed at his petulance if he didn’t have his to-do list running through his head. “Finny, let the Marquis and Marquess know we will be down shortly.” 

“Aye, aye!” Finny saluted them cutely before running off again, fanning out his arms like a bird down the hill. 

The two walked down together in slow, measured steps, with Sebastian slightly behind him. He took the moment to admire and take in the graceful slope of his master’s shoulders, the proud, sure stride of his steps, and the way the soft breeze picked up his hair messily. The cane stabbing the ground was a bit rougher than usual, probably due to the present frustrations. 

“My lord, you seem discontent,” Sebastian observed. 

Ciel humphed, turned his head as if to glance back at his butler, but thought better of it and looked forward.

They made it back to the manor, through the hallways, and into the foyer where everyone was gathered. 

“Ciel!” Lizzie made her way to her fiance, excitement written all over her features, “I’m so happy we’re doing this!” 

Ciel managed a small smile, before taking her hand to kiss it, “It’s good to see you, Lizzie.” 

There was a distinct growl from Edward, but everyone ignored it as Ciel made his way to greet everyone appropriately. After pleasantries, the traveling party made their way to the carriage arranged for them outside. The Midford’s footmen and drivers’ professionalism made the Phantomhive staff self-aware, and everyone seemed to be standing a bit straighter as they saw their young master off. 

Sebastian assisted everyone into the carriage, ending with his young master. Ciel looked down at him, his hand held loosely in Sebastian’s confident grip. The demon’s demure look was convincing enough to almost throw Ciel off, but the lingering fingers on his palms contradicted that adept exterior. Ciel didn't have a chance for a last fleeting glance before finding his seat.

After closing the doors to the carriage, Sebastian took a step back with his standard, professional smile. 

“Safe travels, everyone,” he said.

The Phantomhive servants lost whatever aesthetic they gained in the last few minutes and proceeded to wave about, shouting well-wishes and the like. 

Elizabeth and the Marquis waves cheerily to the staff as the carriage began to take off, but Ciel stared out the side window. His eye just a bit wider than usual, with a small frown on his face. When the carriage turned, he turned his body with it to look out the back window.

The black figure of his butler stood erect and unwavering as the servants jumped up and down to bid them farewell. Ciel’s eye focused on that black figure shakily grow smaller and smaller as the bouncy carriage carried them further and further away. The tails of his coat shifted gracefully in the breeze, and Ciel knew his hair did, too, despite the fact that he could no longer differentiate it. His heels and toes in those spotless shoes were unerringly straight, and his shoulders exhibiting posture that governesses dream of. 

As the servants still waved their goodbyes, the black figure turned on its heel and moved back inside the manor and officially left his young master without his assistance for the first time in ten years.


	2. Epistolary Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can ease my ennui, Sebastian, in letter form, that would make this trip much more interesting.

_July 8, 1896  
Lord Manser’s Estate  
Oxfordshire, England_

__

_Sebastian,_

_After mentioning my concern of the state of my manor numerous times to Lizzie, she suggested that I write to you to quell any feelings of “homesickness.” While I tried to assure her that my desire to end the trip after only a month was not merely to satisfy any malaise I had with this extended period away from my home (which I do not have), she seemed rather stubborn to insist that this must be the root cause of my quarrelsome mood. Upon further consideration, I thought it best not to correct this assumption, since the real reason behind my temperament is a lack of some indulgences that I have not been able to partake since this damned trip began. Thus, I am writing to you._

_I understand that your abilities to take care of the entire manor are well within your reach, but I am still nervous about the other staff’s impact while I am away. Never did I imagine that the household staff’s incompetencies were to survive this long into their employment. My mind keeps turning and foreseeing a manor (or at least a kitchen and garden) in ruins. If what I suspect and fear is proven true and all else fails, give them an extended holiday to tidy up the place before I return._

_I have gone through the financials, and found that you had done so as well, Sebastian. Your notes and tallies are accurate, as always, but unnecessary. In any case, be sure to touch base with the production staff in London and Belfast to ask them about the discrepancies in the profits and expenditures for those individual factories._

_There is no news yet from the Queen, and this lifestyle is boring me terribly. The conversation is as exciting as Sullivan’s lectures on the particulars of molecular biology, but with far less passion. The stagnant summer days drag on, and it makes me yearn for something more stimulating. If you can ease my ennui, Sebastian, in letter form, that would make this trip much more interesting._

_I await your response,_

_Ciel Phantomhive_

_July 20, 1896  
Phantomhive Manor  
Essex, England_

_Dear Master,_

_Your protestations about the state of your manor in your absence are, while not unfounded, are for naught. I implore you to relax on this well-deserved and needed holiday, my lord. I have ensured that everyone take utmost care of their duties, and they are eager to complete these assignments efficiently. Whether this is due to their desire to please you or in fear of some words of, ah, encouragement I made to each of them separately, I am unsure. I might wager a bit of both._

_I had already visited both supervisors at the London and Belfast factories by the time I received your letter. I secured private interviews with both of them, and I believe my findings were useful. Mr. Varga of London informed me that he forgot to include documentation for some preventative maintenance work on the machines, but Mr. Southerland in Belfast had decided to make use some of the company’s money to afford his own extended holiday. I assure you that neither mistake will occur again. In other news, Mr. O’Brien has been promoted to supervisor in the Belfast factory and he seems rather promising._

_The news of your apathy and sullenness does not surprise me, young master. I have enclosed a journal article about something called an “X-Ray”, which is able to provide a look of someone’s bone structure without cutting them open, as well as a review of Oscar Wilde’s new (and rather scandalous) play,_ Salome.

_Your butler,_

_Sebastian_

_August 5, 1896  
Mansfield Park  
Straffordshire, England_

_Sebastian,_

_Your duties are frank and lacking subtlety as usual. I won’t bother continuing this correspondence, since I’m unsure if you’re mocking me or your miniscule beastly brain refuses to grasp rather blatant innuendo. I’m guessing the former._

_I’ll see you when I return,_

_C Phantomhive_

Ciel slammed down his pen after he signed his name in an agitated flourish, having several copies of his reply scattered about. His outburst caused a start in the company around him, and he refused to make eye contact with any of them as he calmed his breathing. Damn demon. Damn stupid, mocking, perfectly handsome demon. 

The truth was that Ciel was terribly, irreparably bored. Not even the conference two years back in Dublin had been this boring, for at least there Ciel could map out who would be next on his hit list. But here in middle of the English countryside, there was nothing but tea, balls, tea, cards, tea, walks, tea, “joy” rides, and even more tea. 

But even the tea wasn’t that good, and the pastries weren’t close to Sebastian’s standards. What was passed a pain au chocolat at these estates wouldn’t have left the kitchen at the Phantomhive manor. But it wasn’t like he missed the damned demon, he reasoned with himself, he really just missed his pastries. 

Taking a moment to compose himself, he sealed the letter with his signet ring, and got up to walk it to the serving staff when the incoming mail arrived. The top letter’s envelope was stark white with a jarringly familiar wax crest sealing it. 

“Lord Phantomhive,” the servant delivered the Queen’s letter with a bow.

Grasping the letter and seating himself back down while opening it, Ciel read its contents quickly. 

_August 1, 1896_  
Buckingham Palace  
London 

_My dear boy,_

Ciel cringed only slightly, and continued to read.

_This old woman’s heart aches so knowing that our beautiful country is constantly under siege underneath our very feet. My sources tell me there is a black market trading of weapons, specifically firearms, in Straffordshire. There are wayward soldiers smuggling weapons from our very own army to sell them illegally to the general public and even larger international buyers. These soldiers are stealing from their government and allowing everyday citizens get their hands on these state of the art weapons-- and for what? It is troubling indeed, my dear boy, and I’m sorry to call on your assistance once again._

How convenient. Of course this was taking place in Straffordshire-- why else would the Queen be asking him to take care of this? Taking a moment to think over the letter, sudden inspiration hit him.

“Colonel Brandon,” Ciel said as he folded up the letter swiftly, “do you know of any military warehouses in the county?” 

The Colonel, seemingly surprised at the young Earl’s first attempt to start conversation since the party arrived, and blinked in quick succession before answering, “I- uh, that is to say, yes, I do,” he cleared his throat, asserting is authority, “in Birmingham.” 

“I will be heading there tonight then,” Ciel announced aloud, more to himself than anything. He was rapidly thinking about how to handle this without Sebastian’s help. He supposed he would use his small stature to his advantage, and he could first investigate--

“Ciel,” Lizzie said imploringly, “we’ve only just arrived to the Colonel’s a day ago. Don’t you think it rather soon to be leaving?” She reached out as if to touch his arm, but then drew it back as if she thought better of it. 

The young earl considered her for a moment before turning to his host. “Colonel, would you be able to part from my company this evening while I investigate something for the crown of England?” A little pomp and circumstance never hurt anyone. 

The rotund retired Colonel sputtered again before giving his consent. “The crown you say! Why yes, I suppose you have no choice. You may have your leave,” he waved his hand in Ciel’s general direction.

Ciel turned to Lizzie, only to find her looking concerned and upset, with a calculating look on her face. “Well, if you must…” 

The corner of Ciel’s lips twitched in triumph, and he took a hold of Lizzy’s hand and kissed it. 

“I’ll be back before the morning.” 

“You better be,” the frown on her mouth lessened slightly when he kissed her hand again, “and be careful.”

“Of course, I always am,” he said as he started off towards his rooms to prepare. 

Riding in the automobile towards Birmingham, Ciel lamented once more about doing this adventure solo. Although he had a very good map and sense of where he was going, without his ever-faithful dog of a demon by his side, he began to second guess some choices and made a few bad turns. 

With growing frustration with another U-turn and the humidity turning into a steady rain, Ciel cursed his luck once more. His stubbornness and determination was going to land him stranded in the mud if he wasn’t careful. 

He rolled along the bumpy, dampening roads only recently used by automobiles. His eyes squinted against the cool rain; an odd, paradoxical relief after the muggy day. His summer clothes steadily grew wetter with each mile he traversed, and while he knew that the journey wouldn’t be any less wet with Sebastian there, it would have at least been comforting knowing he wasn’t the only one suffering. Although the demon probably didn’t care if he got wet. Actually, he knew he didn’t. 

Stupid demon.

He shook his head to rid himself of his drifting thoughts, and then made the last turn towards a warehouse looming in the distance. He parked rather far away, lest his automobile be heard, and made his way slowly towards his destination.

Ciel approached the building, and the structure struck him as something impermanent, only made out of wood planking and beams, hastily put together with large gaps. Nothing weather-sensitive could remain in this storehouse, and he very much doubted that state-of-the-art weapons would mind a bit of rain. Hopefully the sound of the raindrops hitting the roof and siding would muffle whatever sounds he might make.

He made it to the door, which was open. Odd. Ciel took extra precautionary efforts to view his surroundings, even taking off his eyepatch to allow his full vision take in the scene. The rain might muffle the sounds he was making, but it also obscured his surroundings. Since nothing seemed to shift in the night, he peeked inside before darting in. 

Shelving reached up to the top of the 10 foot ceilings, filled with boxes and blankets covering lumpy packages. A quick check confirmed that many of these blankets were covering hundreds of rifles. He was in the right place. 

A bang in the opposite corner of the warehouse had Ciel crouch down quickly, even though he was hidden from view. His mind raced as he categorized the sound not as a gun, but as something hitting the wood siding harshly. 

“You scum!” a voice rang through the building, “you told me they would be here by now!”

Someone answered in response, but the timid voice was hard to make out so far away. Ciel kept his crouch down, withdrew his revolver from his jacket, and made his way towards the racket. 

“Where are the new Bergmanns?!” said the voice roaringly. 

Ciel kept his breathing steady and even as he slowly made his way towards the voices. In the dim light he could see four figures. He had six shots with two reloads, but he hopefully wouldn’t need the extra. His aim these days rivaled Sebastian’s. 

“I-I-I-I told you last week they’re now not set to be released until next year!” the terrified voice said, whimpering slightly.

There was a loud smack and a heavy thud to the ground. Ciel stopped as the noise halted to just the rain and the man panting heavily on the ground. 

“That’s a lie!” the angry man said, followed by some rustling, thumping, and cries. 

Ciel quickly took this opportunity and made haste towards the men. Of course, everyone would have to die. Well, maybe he wouldn’t kill the man being beaten, but the men kicking him might do the job for him if he wasn’t quick enough. After all, he needed someone to question. 

Once he was one shelf away from the action, he peered over at the sight before him. 

The ceiling of the nondescript warehouse was open to the rain here; it seemed like a few of the roof slats had fallen away in a previous storm. A bald man lay in the fetal position on the floor, as the three men took turns kicking him in his stomach, on his back, and on his head. The victim seemed to be falling unconscious as he took less care in protecting his head, but his perpetrators did not let up. 

Now was the time. 

Ciel quickly stood up, and made quick work of the first two men, shooting them square in the head. They fell to the floor in a bloody heap beside the unconscious bald man. 

The third man looked shocked for a moment, before whipping around to shoot Ciel, who took that moment to shoot him in between his eyes. The man barely had a moment to register who attacked them. 

“Hmf. That was easy,” he said to himself as he lowered his gun. 

Ciel suddenly felt the cold end of a gun on the back of head, and his eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t see--

A strangled sound escaped his would-be killer, and the gun quickly fell away from his head as the body collapsed to the wet floor. Confusion flooding him, Ciel spun around with his gun at the ready.

Only to find Sebastian, calm and poised, with a small grin and a bloody table knife in his hands.

“You--!” 

“My apologies, my lord, I was waiting to see if you noticed this last one.” 

“You just--”

“But I see you’ve done very well, as expected. That third shot was most excellent.” 

“I didn’t even--” 

“And you’ve even left one of them alive for question. Well done.” 

Ciel shut his mouth and stared at Sebastian as a rush of emotions washed over him, hot and pounding as he took in the sight before him. Ever handsome, ever perfect even when wet, except for that one stray clump of hair that always seemed to fall in his face (but even that he imagined was intentional), was his damned butler always there to save the day. And he hadn’t seen the bastard in nearly two months.

Fuck, he missed him.

Ciel dropped his gun, walked around the body and over to Sebastian, grabbed his wet face and ferociously kissed him. An amused hum escaped the demon, and always the quick learner, dropped the table knife and returned his master’s enthusiasm.

They closed the small remaining space between them as their shoulders, hips, and legs grounded into one another in desperate, yearning want. Sebastian gripped Ciel’s tiny waist possessively and Ciel moaned in consent. The rain pelted down on them, streaming into their joined mouths and dripping onto one another. 

Threading his hands through Sebastian’s wet hair, loving the feeling of it even though it was now cold to the touch-- just touching it alone was thrilling and he ached for more. His hands travelled down that damnably perfect face, mapping the articulate cheekbones out for the first time in what seemed like forever, and moved to slowly press his palms over his chest. He paused to unbutton the wool top coat, and dove his hands into the dry warmth there. 

Sebastian inhaled shakily as Ciel’s hands continued their long-deprived journey down and around his torso, when they paused briefly to flick open the waistcoat buttons and slide around his middle. The hands gripped the shirtsleeves briefly before dragging his blunt nails down Sebastian’s back, drawing him further into his embrace. 

Ciel’s kisses became sloppier as he became more excited, with teeth sometimes bumping, and unsuccessful attempts to reign in his libido with smaller kisses while controlling his breath. He ground his now roaring erection into Sebastian’s thigh, and felt an answering hardness on his hip. They really had waited way too long for this.

The rain seemed to mimic their rising passions, and began to fall even harder on them. Sebastian seemed to notice this, and reluctantly slowed his kisses down. Once the kisses stopped, their foreheads pressed together as they regained their breathing. Ciel still subtly but also not-so-subtly pressed his erection into Sebastian’s leg, unconsciously seeking relief. Sebastian huffed out a laugh, and opened his burning eyes to gaze at his master’s. 

“Young master, I must advise us to pause these activities--”

“Why--”

“--to get you out of the rain and interrogate your victim, who is slowly coming back into consciousness.” 

As if on cue, the bald man moaned softly. 

Ciel let out the hardest, longest sigh before stepping back. He straightened his clothes, took another breath, and turned to the moaning man. 

“Oh, I suppose you’re right.” Ciel’s frown was almost comical. “Sebastian, get him out of the rain, I want to do this as dryly as possible.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

Sebastian grabbed the bald man by the scruff, and dragged him over the dead bodies, and into an aisle between the shelves. The man blearily opened his eyes, and tried to take in the sight before him. Ciel’s mismatched eyes and Sebastian’s blazing ones were probably jarring, to say the least.

“Answer quickly and I’ll kill you quickly. Answer slowly and my dog will kill you slowly. Understand?” Ciel raised his retrieved gun to the man’s head. 

The man started sobbing, and both Ciel and Sebastian gave each other annoyed, deadpanned looks. It looked like it was going to be a long night. 

One hour, two well-aimed shots, a few pints of blood, and a confession later, Sebastian and Ciel were walking towards the parked automobile together in comfortable silence, mulling over what the (now dead) bald man had said. It had stopped raining, and their footsteps clicked confidently along the empty cobblestoned road. 

“So the three-”

“Four, sir.” 

Ciel glared, “ _Four_ men were taking orders from someone else, who presumably is orchestrating this large-scale weapon black market.”

“Presumably, yes.” 

Ciel shot him a calculating look. Sebastian stared ahead, and then briefly let his gaze wander to his master’s. 

“You knew about tonight,” no question needed. Ciel knew the bastard couldn’t lie. 

A corner of the demon’s mouth twitched upwards. “I did indeed.” 

“How?” 

“It’s rather easy to reseal wax, my lord.” 

Ciel stopped walking and faced his butler. “You read my mail!” 

“I was compelled to. I found it rather odd that the Queen’s butlers didn’t take it directly to you. It was almost as if they intended me to read it first,” said Sebastian rationally.

Ciel scoffed, turned, and continued to walk. It did seem rather coincidental initially, but he had assumed that the queen knew what she was doing. But, he supposed, she did in the long run. 

“So we will have to continue to research the source of this underground firearm ring,” Ciel said aloud, mostly to himself as he trailed off. He glanced back lazily at Sebastian and said, “This is an order: Find out what you can about these gun trades. I’m sure it’s not just happening Birmingham.” 

A hand to the chest, “Yes, my lord.” 

They reached the automobile that Ciel drove to the scene, and Sebastian unnecessarily helped him into the cab. The spotlessly white gloved hand didn’t immediately let go once Ciel was settled, and the long thumb grazed over the pale knuckles back and forth. 

Ciel looked up to Sebastian’s face, to find those red eyes still fixated on his hand. 

“I shall dispose of the bodies, tidy the interrogation space, and lock up the warehouse,” he rose his head and met Ciel’s gaze. “Is there anything else you require of me?” 

A heartbeat passed and Ciel leaned in to kiss Sebastian softly. Their lips met and the subdued passion was communicated through the firm press and chasteness of the kiss. Like a breath, it lifted Ciel’s chest and brought a renewed vigor. 

It ended as quickly as it started.

“No, that is all.” 

The engine started, and Ciel put the automobile into first gear. 

“See you in about a month, Sebastian,” he said as he began to pull away. 

“Or sooner,” answered his butler. 

Ciel did a double take as he was pulling out. “What was that?!” 

“Eyes on the road, my lord!” 

Turning quickly back around, Ciel fumed silently. What the hell was that damned demon planning? 

Ciel grumbled the entire way home, making it back to Mansfield Park just as the sun was rising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention this was sort of a slow burn? I mean, if you can count a 3 chapter long fic as a slow burn. Spoiler alert: they do it next chapter.
> 
> Sorry for all the plot. I swear I'll make it up next chapter. I was really going for the UST here.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to Dragonsploosh for her positive reinforcement, and tasty-kate for beta-ing. 
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated. Brownie points for anyone who caught the Jane Austen references.


	3. Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in the back of Ciel’s mind signaled that this was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Even worse than smoking opium with Lau on the balcony, even worse than dancing with Lizzie while high on said opium. But Ciel honestly did not care. He wish he could blame it on the drug, but he knew he couldn’t. He waited so, so long for this. Too long.

The string quartet glided along the fanciful notes that encouraged some brave dancers out onto the dance floor at the start of the evening. The large sleeves and swooping skirts of the women ruffled noisily as their tuxedo-attired partners led them about the room on their arms. Shoes clicked on a highly polished and beautifully embellished parquet floor, and the walls of the grand room were decorated in the latest wall papers and colors of the age. The ostentatious opulence seemed only to enhance the rich feeling of the evening, as conversations were dotted with posh, fake laughs and disingenuous sentiments. 

This was a party of new money, entrepreneurs who were among the lucky few to benefit from the rising commercial industrial age. While some still held titles given to them by the crown, many of them did not, and instead enjoyed the benefits of wealth and privileges that they earned by the rise of consumerism, rather than being resigned to their lot in life.

Earl Phantomhive straddled the old with the new, having been born (alright, stolen) the title of Earl of Phantomhive and also ran England’s most well-known toy and confectionery company. He should, for all intents and purposes, be the life of the party considering everything he has in common with the attendees. 

Instead, Ciel stood against a wall, arms crossed, and glared at anyone who dared to try and approach him. 

“Ciel, that was rude!” Lizzie admonished with a tap on her fiance’s shoulder after a particularly glowering stare that scared a bespectacled man off. 

“Tch,” Ciel rolled his eyes, “I know that man. He wants me to merge with his company.” 

Lizzie sighed a pretty sigh. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to just talk to some people here. You never know what type of opportunities for Funtom might be waiting around the corner!” 

Lizzie’s optimistically naive voice almost forced another roll of Ciel’s eyes. But having guessed the progression that this conversation could have, Ciel kept his mouth shut and his eyes forward. 

Several minutes passed by, and Lizzie couldn’t seem to stop moving. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, crossed her arms, uncrossed them, placed her hands in front of her, behind her, played with her hair a number of times, and settled on fiddling with some jewelry. 

“Lizzie, if you want to go dance, please do so. You are more than welcome to find a willing partner.” 

The puppy eyes that gazed at him could melt the coldest of hearts. “But Ciel, I want to dance with you!”

Too bad Ciel didn’t have much of heart anymore. “Do you value your toes still? I suggest if you do and you wish to dance, to ask your brother or father to oblige you.” Or anyone else besides me, he added silently.

Ciel tried to communicate sympathy in his eyes, but it was rather hard when it was the last thing he felt. Try as he may, the only sympathies he had been feeling as of late were to his own numbing ache of Sebastian’s absence. 

Not that he would ever admit it.

Lizzie’s eyes flickered over her fiance’s aloof face and pressed her lips together. The look of resignation was worse than the puppy eyes. 

“Okay, Ciel,” she said and turned away to find Edward. 

The young lord’s shoulders relaxed marginally for a minute as he closed his eyes in a moment of respite. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Earl!” A gratingly familiar voice sung to his left.

The deep breath Ciel was letting go of ended in what sounded like a growl. “Lau… what on earth are you doing here?” Ciel opened his eyes to see the Chinese drug lord and his sister or girlfriend or whatever she was hanging off of him as usual. 

“I was invited of course,” Lau replied, petting his arm piece in a horribly objectifying fashion, “and who am I to miss out on such a golden business opportunity?” 

Ciel snorted. “Of course you wouldn’t miss an opportunity with your most loyal customers.” He rubbed his exposed eye, wondering for probably the umpteenth time that evening why Sebastian couldn’t be there to save him from the social pressures of the evening. 

“And,” Lau went on, as if Ciel never spoke, “I’m here to give you support while you’re without the one you miss the most.” 

The earl’s heart began to pound painfully as he snapped his gaze up to Lau’s. “How would you--”

“It’s written all of your face,” Lau observed, opening his piercing eyes to gaze thoughtfully. 

Ciel blanched and swallowed harshly, wondering who else might have noticed. Feeling the nervous sweat cling to his brow and back, he tried to control his breathing. He had been thinking of Sebastian a lot that evening, but thought he schooled his face well enough. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “If you tell anyone that I’ve been with him…” Ciel threatened, feeling everything-- his earldom, his business, the estate-- everything that he carefully built up come crashing down at the thought of the scandal. 

Lau blinked and smiled blankly. “Who are we talking about again?”

Ciel didn’t even know how he got there, but the next thing he knew Ran Mao was pulling him off of a bruised and battered Lau as the drug dealer laughed vacantly. 

“My my, Earl, I didn’t know you still had that volatile of a temper!” Lau observed, dabbing a handkerchief at his bloody lip. 

“Stop messing around!” Ciel hissed, trying to keep the kerfuffle down to a minimum now that he gained his senses. Thankfully only a few heads had turned when Ciel was pummeling Lau repeatedly. 

“Really, though,” Lau slung a friendly arm around the Lord’s shoulders in a chummy manner, “your manners need some work. Maybe you need help,” he leaned in too close to Ciel’s ear, “relaxing?” 

The innuendo was not lost on Ciel. “I don’t need your drugs, Lau.” 

Ciel could feel the casual shrug Lau gave. “No one needs drugs per se, Earl, but they do make arduous social situations such as this a lot more… interesting.”

Well, that was a thought. He certainly wasn’t having fun at the moment, and was probably stuck at this damned ball for the next few hours. He hadn’t been able to figure out a plan of action yet, but maybe getting inappropriately wasted was--

No. No, no, no. 

Ciel wiggled his way out of the too-familiar embrace. “I don’t think so, Lau. The last thing I need is to make large business deals while under the influence.” 

Lau held up his hands defensively. “I didn’t suggest that you lose your senses,” he laughed softly to himself, as one does when a child takes something out of proportion, “just to loosen up a bit.” 

Ignoring the patronizing chuckle, Ciel contemplated the implications. He could trust Lau and assume that he would give him the exactly right dosage to get perfectly inebriated without losing all of his inhibitions to make sure he was still ignoring prospective businessmen, sexual advances from their licentious wives, and also dance proposals from Lizzie, while enjoying his time significantly more. Or he could get irreparably wasted and wake up in an unknown bed of a middle-aged wife, having made terrible business promises, and successfully broken 7 of Lizzie’s 10 toes.

Ciel eyed Lau wearily. “How can I trust you?” 

“Ah, Earl! Have I ever given you reason to mistrust me?” Lau seemed not to notice Ciel’s incredulous stare. “And besides, I haven’t been in this business this long without knowing these types of things.”

Fair point.

Ciel contemplated again, weighing the pros and cons, projecting into the future and considering the people that were here, the fact that his future in-laws were among the group of people, silently judging him that he wasn’t dancing with Lizzie and he didn’t really want to admit that he missed Sebastian and--

“Okay, fine.”

A few minutes later found Ciel, Lau, and Ran Mao on a balcony with Lau lighting up the long opium pipe. Ciel kept looking over his shoulder, not even taking in the sight of the expansive garden and estate grounds to make sure that none of Funtom’s board members or prospective clients were looking out that way when the pipe was thrust in front of his face.

“Just a puff or two, Earl, and you’ll be as right as rain.” 

Ciel took it, blinking as the smoke wafted up from Lau’s hit, making him feel just vaguely dizzy-- or was that a placebo effect? “Should I do one or two?”

“Two,” said Ran Mao, making her voice appear for the first time that night.

“O-okay…” 

The first hit felt like fire, burning his throat and his lungs like the day his family died. He doubled over in a coughing fit while keeping the pipe level, trying not to focus on the negative thoughts as he concentrated on his breathing. 

“Another one?” He asked once he recovered, his eyes watering and his cheeks flushed.

Lau nodded, “One more should do the trick.”

“Hold it,” Ran Mao suggested when Ciel brought the pipe to his lips again, lighting it for him.

Ciel nodded and inhaled the smoke, turning slightly blue in the face before coughing out all the air in his lungs. 

The pipe was taken from his hands and he struggled to regain his breathing. He gripped on the balcony banister as he filled his lungs with clean air and finally overlooked the balcony to the expansive view below.

The rose garden, planted with what looked like at least a dozen different types of roses, had a perfume that wafted up lazily in the late summer air, and inviting bistro tables and chairs dotted the garden invitingly. Just beyond the roses lay a shallow long reflection pool that had a modest fountain bubbling in the middle. The soft rippling sounds of the water were soothing, as were the waves in the pool that cascaded out from the fountain. Ciel’s eye travelled to the hedge maze just beyond the fountain, and wondered how many dead ends were there, how many people were possibly out there now, and if there even was a way out. He couldn’t see the exit from here, but maybe that was the point-- to obfuscate it for anyone except for those in the maze as to not ruin the experience. 

“He’s good to go,” Lau commented softly, patting Ciel’s shoulder.

Ciel’s lazy gaze slowly wandered up to Lau’s. For some reason, Lau’s face was inexplicably hilarious, and Ciel struggled to not let out a laugh that threatened to bubble up from his chest. 

Lau smiled serenely, taking another hit. “Is there anything you want to share?” Lau asked, smoke escaping his mouth as he passed the pipe to Ran Mao.

Oh, there were so many things to share. How he wanted to go out in that maze right now, how he wanted to smell each variety of rose below, that he wanted to hide from Lizzie and the rest of the Midfords for the rest of the evening until it was time to leave (and possibly for longer), how he was supposed to be on an assignment from the Queen to investigate illicit firearm deals but was smoking opium instead, or how he was desperately and pathetically in-- 

“No, nothing.” 

Ciel pushed past the two, mumbling his thanks as he made his way back into the dance hall. 

The smells, sounds, and warmth were all still overwhelming, but now not unpleasantly so. The sound of the music was just what he needed at that moment, and although he still didn’t want to dance, whatever the quartet was playing was exactly what he wanted to hear. The plucked staccato and vibrato legato notes while at odds, seemed to fit the surrounding chaos. He watched in bemusement as an unsuspecting gentleman keep up with Lizzie’s excited pace as they fumbled through the waltz together. He saw a flash of Edward dancing with, hmm, interesting, Lizzie’s maid Paula, and the countless of other dancing couples now twirling about on the floor with their distractingly beautiful clothes. 

Ciel tore his eyes from the scene as he smelled some of the hors d'oeuvres coming from some of the wait staff. He slowly walked along, planning his route to go past as many servants as possible, sampling all of the cuisine proffered. 

“Why, yes, I think I shall,” he said to a demure butler.

“Well, if you insist,” he flashed the maid an award-winning smile.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he eyed a particularly alluring dish. 

He munched on some (admittedly delicious) Greek pastry dish when suddenly something caught his eye. He took a double take towards the drinks table, swearing that there was no way he could have seen that right, that his mind was playing tricks on him. 

Did opium have hallucinogenic properties? 

There, among the punches, water, and other drinks, was a man who looked an awful lot like Sebastian. 

Ciel squinted his eye, accidentally running into someone as he distractedly walked in the direction of the drinks. He grumbled his apologies to the man, and when he looked up, the Sebastian look-a-like was staring right at him.

With hell blazing red eyes.

“God damn demon!” he grumbled to himself as he watched a slow smile creep its way up the handsome features of his butler’s face.

He stumbled in a dignified manner towards Sebastian, fury building with every step. 

“What in the nine circles of hell are you doing here, Sebastian?!” he hissed when he was close enough to not cause a scene. 

“Dante had it wrong, my lord, we only have 3 circles,” he paused and then added, “including Limbo.” That infuriating smile was plastered on as he spoke softly, irritating the young lord even more.

Ciel growled in exasperation, looking around to see if there was anyone who could possibly recognize Sebastian here. 

Sebastian leaned towards him, bending at the waist with a dutiful hand at his torso. “Forgive me for my forwardness, young master, but it might be advisable for us to take our leave for a bit until you come down from your high.”

Ciel turned sharply, eyes wide. “Am I that noticeable?” His heart pounded, fearing that his initial fears were being realized.

“Not to most, my lord,” he cocked his head in consideration, eyes raking over his master’s features, “but your pupils are constricted, your breathing has slowed considerably, and your eyelids are dropped, suggesting an altered state of awareness.” 

He straightened up, looking over Ciel once more, “I’d like to think that only few people would recognize the symptoms, but it might be best if we retreat until the height of it has worn off.” 

“Fine, fine,” Ciel sighed, and began to make his way to exit when a flurry of pastels and curls invaded his vision.

“Ciel!” Lizzie exclaimed excitedly, grabbing his hand, “I know you said you weren’t going to dance, but this is our song! I insist that you dance at least this one with me.” 

Horror flooded Ciel’s features as Lizzie dragged him to the dance floor, looking around to finally seeing Sebastian exit through the hallway doors. 

He faced Lizzie with a pale face, swallowing thickly as he bowed like a good English noble person should do before dancing with their fiance. Looking around briefly to see what in the world type of dancing would accompany “their” song (he didn’t even realize that they had a song), he saw it was a fairly simple waltz and sighed in relief. Taking Lizzie’s hand and waist, he slowly led them around the room, paying careful attention to his partner’s toes and other people around them. 

The drug must have helped his concentration somehow by making it seem like everything was slowed down just a bit. The waves of music that undulated through him helped him keep his steps in time, and at one point he almost believed himself to actually be having fun. One look at Lizzie’s face proved that he couldn’t have been doing horribly, since there was no grimace to speak of and her cheeks were bloomed with a healthy pink flush.

Ciel averted his gaze, wondering if Sebastian would ever be flushed ever in his time as a demon. Come to think of it, he never saw the demon have any human bodily responses besides bleeding…and, well… In any case, even in the thick of fight or sex he never had one bead of sweat on his skin. He glanced briefly around the room as he twirled Lizzie, looking around to see if Sebastian might have come back. No such luck. 

The quartet played in a ritardando, signaling that the song was ending, and the resolved chord helped Ciel remember to bow at the very end. 

Lizzie’s eyes were nearly shining with happiness as Ciel kissed her hand like the perfect gentleman, and then bid his regrets for departing as another song started, pleading the need for fresh air. 

He had a demon to find.

As he made his way towards the door, Ciel realized that his wits were rapidly declining. The slow motion of everything around him confused and disoriented him, and he felt like all of his senses were heightened at an usually high decibel. He could hear his breathing in his ears, and knew that the him being overly warm was probably due to the dancing as well as the drugs, but could not discern from one sensation as legitimate and the other as drug-enhanced. The lack of control concerned him, and he was determined not to make an ass of himself at this venue.

The hallway door burst open, probably a little harsher than necessity allowed, and Ciel glanced left and right to see if he could find his demonic butler.

“Sebastian?” he called, half expecting his voice to echo off the vast walls of the ornate hallway. 

The lighting was dark with only a few wall sconces lit. This didn’t seem like an area that dancing guests were supposed to be in. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sebastian had unlocked the door. 

“Sebastian, where are you?” he called again, slowly making his way down the hall, his eyesight hindered further by the constriction of his pupils as well as his eye patch. He squinted in the dark, trying to make out any figures. 

He stopped and took a moment to listen. He couldn’t help it, but the darkness of the hallway and his mysteriously disappearing demon started to make his heart pound again. The drug-laced blood rushing through his veins made him feel lightheaded, as his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in.

A click behind him forced him to turn around, gun drawn.

“Who’s there?” he questioned, ripping off his eyepatch to see better. His gaze flickered back and forth, straining to see if anyone was there-- 

“Just me,” a voice purred right in Ciel’s ear behind him, and slammed his back up against the wall.

Ciel cried out and dropped his gun in surprise. His perpetrator held him firmly in place and the large hands squeezed his waist intimately, ignoring the squirming and kicking of Ciel’s legs. A nose found its way into the hair at Ciel’s temple, and inhaled slowly, lazily. The shadowed figure pulled back with red eyes burning in the darkness.

“Sebastian! You gave me a fright!” Ciel smacked his shoulder, trying to muster some outrage that could match his erection that was quickly growing in his trousers.

“My apologies my lord,” Sebastian said, not sounding sorry at all, “but I really can’t help it when a prey as lovely as yourself so willingly follows me.” He stepped closer, allowing their hips to align with subtle pressure, drawing a shallow gasp from Ciel. 

“This is an order, Sebastian,” Ciel said, wrapping his arms around his butler’s neck, “you are never to hunt me like a wolf chasing a fox again.” He eased his way closer, chin tilting upwards.

Sebastian sighed. “You’re ruining all of my fun, young master.” He sounded dejected, but there was a small grin playing on his lips. 

Ciel inched closed, until their lips were breaths apart. “Then let’s make some new fun.” 

No human could kiss like Sebastian, Ciel knew this. He had read and heard of people describing their lover’s kisses as “searing”, but none of them had the fires of hell in their lover’s kiss. The possessive, claiming nature of Sebastian’s kisses left Ciel weak in his knees as he relinquished his control. Ciel might be the master in their life’s masquerade, but Sebastian would always have the upper hand when their costumes were stripped and pretenses dropped. Sebastian dominated Ciel, and would continue to dominate Ciel every time they met like this.

Their lips rapidly connected, disconnected, and changed angles; became slower, quicker as a frenzy seized them both. There was no graceful waltz in the way their tongues danced together, it was desperately pathetic in its uncoordinated movements and sloppiness. But somehow it was beautiful, even more beautiful than the lavishly dressed dancers only a few dozen meters away. 

Somewhere in the back of Ciel’s mind signaled that this was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Even worse than smoking opium with Lau on the balcony, even worse than dancing with Lizzie while high on said opium. But Ciel honestly did not care. He wish he could blame it on the drug, but he knew he couldn’t. He waited so, so long for this. Too long. 

Plus, he reasoned, his perfect butler wouldn’t let them get caught. 

Right?

Sebastian seemed to sense Ciel’s distracted thoughts, and wedged his knee between his master’s legs. The moan wrenched forth from Ciel’s throat was primal and resonated from his chest, and Sebastian’s chuckle in response was, for some reason, one of the most sinfully demonic things Ciel had ever heard. The heat in Ciel’s chest increased tenfold at that sound, and his fingers became antsy as they worked to undo his butler’s jacket. 

Sebastian wiggled a deft hand between their tightly crunched bodies, and flicked open the buttons of Ciel’s trousers. He dug in and removed the beautifully hard cock and gave it one good squeeze.

Ciel immediately stopped kissing when his head dropped back with a thud on the wall. His eyes blearily blinked up to the ceiling when Sebastian began to stroke his erection, and he bit onto his lip, trying not to make any more sounds, but a whine escaped unintentionally. He looked down when Sebastian stopped briefly to see Sebastian ripping off his right glove with his teeth. Their eyes locked and Sebastian continued the agonizing pace with his bare hand, wrenching a shaky sigh from Ciel.

Suddenly Ciel’s pants were tugged down by Sebastian’s free hand, and a slicked finger (when did that happen?) nudged at his entrance, massaging it briefly. Ciel gasped when the lubed up digit breached him up to one knuckle, forcing to keep his breathing even as it worked its way up slowly inside of him, and he grabbed onto the demon’s shirtsleeves, enjoying the feeling of the warm body underneath. 

Kisses rained down on Ciel’s face as both of his butler’s hands worked at him, and another finger slipped in. “My apologies for not taking slower,” he lamented, sounding honestly remorseful this time around, “but we do not have the luxury to draw this out.”

As if on cue, laughter ringed from the doorway only a few yards away, pausing their movements briefly.

Once the coast was clear, Ciel lifted his leg to wrap it around Sebastian’s hip, drawing him in. “Then we better make this-- oh!” 

A dexterous, third finger reached his prostate, and a zing of pleasure zipped through Ciel. Sebastian rubbed at it a bit more, his face betraying how much he enjoyed the little noises escaping his master.

“That’s it,” Sebastian encouraged.

“Ah!” a breathy voice sounded, and the young lord’s hips canted up at the tempo of Sebastian’s ministrations. He humped in time to the grip on his member, pushing back on the fingers that stretched his hole from behind. Typically Ciel would never behave so wantonly, but the drugs seemed to hone in on every sensation, every touch that stroked and rubbed at his body. He had to remember to shut his mouth periodically lest he drool in his satisfaction, and his eyes rolled up periodically as he struggled to not call out loudly. “That’s--” he bit his lip, “you’re--” 

A sound that could only be described as a purr emanated from Sebastian’s chest. “You’re ready,” he announced, withdrawing his fingers and ceasing motion on his master’s dick, Sebastian spun Ciel around by the hips, a licentious imitation of the dancing currently happening out in the ballroom.

The earl was pushed up against the wall and had to brace himself with his hands to prevent himself from being smashed. “Be careful, Seb--ah!” 

Already lubed up, the head of his demon butler’s cock slowly pressed itself into the tight heat of Ciel. Drawing uneven breaths, Ciel focused on the possessive hands gripping his hips from behind, and wondered idly when the other glove had come off. His musings were cut short when Sebastian pushed forward a bit more, drawing a cut-off gasp from him. If he was correctly reading the demon’s body language at all, it seemed like he was as taut as a violin bow, holding back to not ram himself into his master’s hole without a care. Almost as if he did--

“AH!” The last inch of his dick was sheathed, and it pressed on his prostate intentionally. 

Ciel could almost hear the stifled chuckle behind him. “My lord,” thank goodness he sounded a bit breathless, Ciel thought to himself, “As much as it dismays me to say so, I am going to have to ask for you to keep your voice down, lest we be discovered.”

“Just,” Ciel breathed shakily, “just hurry up and--” a nasally gasp sounded as Sebastian quickly withdrew and plunged back in. 

Fingernails dug into Ciel’s palm as he tried as hard as he could to not voice his sincere pleasure at the sensation. It was so, so damn good. 

“It seems like the drugs are doing wonders to your inhibitions, young master,” Sebastian commented, thrusting again into the welcoming, wet heat, “your body is responding so well to me right now.” He spoke in a soft voice that was for Ciel’s ears only, murmuring into his ear hotly.

“Shut up, stupid de-- hnng!” Ciel’s forehead smacked onto the wall when Sebastian’s cock brushed up against his prostate again. “Are you purposely not letting me finish my thoughts?” he snapped angrily, turning his head a bit to see Sebastian’s face.

Big mistake. Sebastian looked like sex incarnate with his hair slightly disheveled and his jacket around his elbows. The glowing red eyes literally embodied lust, and his toothy, sharp smirk was too perfect, too handsome to have any right to lay on anyone’s face, let alone his annoying demonic butler’s face. 

“Fuck, Sebas--” his words cut off again with another precise thrust, a thrust that was repeated again, and again, and again. Not wanting to come too soon, Ciel turned away from the beautiful sight of Sebastian and put his forehead on the wall again, biting his lip to keep in his voiced pleasure.

Working up a nice pace, their bodies smacked together, melding into one as they worked in tandem, chasing their pleasures while reveling in the other’s. 

“My, my, you seem to be quite greedy for my cock this evening,” Sebastian whispered, tiptoeing his fingers around to Ciel’s neglected cock and gripped it firmly. “See how wet you are, just from me?” He dragged his fingers over the head, playing with the substantial precome that had formed there.

“Ahhh!” Ciel couldn’t even voice a retort and instead settled on bracing his forearms against the wall and bending his back to push his bum out to better greet each time Sebastian sunk in. As they picked up speed, Sebastian’s balls smacked onto Ciel’s perineum, and Ciel grunted with each powerful thrust that relentlessly pounded into his prostate. His grunts became louder, a little unhinged, as Sebastian began to work earnestly at Ciel’s cock. 

“That won’t do,” Sebastian chided, and covered Ciel’s mouth with his hand.

Ciel’s muffled moans increased, as if the hand gave him permission to do what he was aching to do. He growled out his pleasure, each grunt and moan being wrenched from his throat as Sebastian continued to shove himself further, harder, deeper into Ciel, the butler’s capable hands jacking his master’s cock off perfectly. He forced Ciel’s body flushed up against his own, pushing the top part of his shoulders into the wall as Sebastian really began to drill into him.

“Look at you, young master, what would the nobles out there say? Getting fucked by your own butler in the hallway of the season’s most popular ball. What would they say if they were to find us here, with my cock pounding into your greedy hole and you unable to hold back your voice?” If possible, Sebastian drew him even closer, whispering into his ear. “Ah, and their faces when you come all over my hand, all over the wallpaper,” Sebastian drew in a breath, “but your face would be the best of all, your eyes loving my cock deep in you, begging for me to finish in you, to fill you--”

Ciel’s eyes squeezed shut as he started to come, his breath caught up in his throat as the orgasm crashed over him. His hips stilled but Sebastian was unforgiving, continuing to pummel into him, forcing Ciel to grab onto his shoulders as he shook and ejaculated all over Sebastian’s hand and the wall, dripping down to the parquet floor.

“Fuck--” Sebastian thrust through his own orgasm, forcing the come to drip out of Ciel and down his legs. The grip around Ciel’s mouth tightened until it was almost painful, with the black fingernails digging into his jaw as he rode out his high. 

They panted together, chests heaving. Ciel remembered his thought from before about how Sebastian never showed any bodily responses, but he had forgotten that he always breathed heavily after sex. How could he have forgotten?

“I missed you,” Ciel breathed, and gently kissed Sebastian. It was a slow, lazy kiss with no tongues and all lips. The sweetness betrayed the reality of the situation, in that they were covered in jizz and smelled of sex, but at that moment it didn’t matter. 

“As did I,” Sebastian responded when they let go. Ciel blinked and looked at him, knowing that he couldn’t tell a lie. The sincerity of his voice and the look on his face made Ciel’s heart pound briefly. 

A bang and a shout followed by a scream out in the ballroom jolted the two of them apart. They glanced at each other briefly before setting their clothes right and for Ciel to put his eyepatch back on. Sebastian passed a hand over whatever stains were on their clothes (thank goodness for demonic cleaning powers), and they rushed out to join the crowd. 

In the middle of the ballroom was a man pointing a gun at the host, Colonel Brandon. 

“How dare you Brandon, how dare you?!” the man with the gun shouted, spittle flying out of his mouth.

The Colonel had a deer-in-headlights look, his hands held up in a defensive gesture. “Now, look here my good man--”

“I am the good man, that’s right! I’m not selling the Queen’s property, the army’s firearms for personal gain!” 

Ciel’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Oh-ho. 

“These accusations, they have no ground--” The Colonel pleaded, backing away with guilt written across his face.

“I have letters! Witnesses! Documentation! And I have found your store room here in this estate!” 

Gasps were sounded throughout the room and the silence that followed was ominous.

In a quick move, the Colonel moved to grab something inside of his jacket pocket, but the other man was too quick. The man shot Colonel Brandon, provoking screams and yells. 

The Colonel fells to the floor, dead. 

A few people fainted, some others cried, and general commotion commenced around them.

“Well, my lord, it looks like you have an acquaintance to make,” Sebastian said with his default smile plastered on his face, taking in the scene with subdued joy. Only a demon would love this type of chaos.

Ciel rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, for the report. At least this job has come to a close.” 

“And your trip.” Sebastian glanced down at Ciel. 

Ciel’s gaze flickered up to Sebastian briefly. “Hmm, yes. It appears so.” 

Sebastian bowed slightly, hand on his heart. “I will make sure that the manor is ready for your return.” 

“Yes, do that.” Ciel waved a hand at him, fighting a smile. 

“Ciel, there you are! I was so scared!” A panicked Lizzie shouted from a few feet away, hugging him fiercely once she was in range. 

Ciel battled gravity as he steadied both of them, which was harder than usual considering his altered state, and ended up wrapping an arm around her begrudgingly. “Lizzie, this isn’t really appropriate…” 

“I don’t care!” She cried, burrowing her face into his neck.

Ciel stiffened, wondering if she could smell Sebastian on him and looked up to see if his butler could offer assistance, to find him missing. 

Of course.

“Elizabeth! Your lack of propriety at this age is appalling!” Francis called from a few feet away, stalking towards them with the Marquis and Edward in tow. “We should be making haste to head back. The scandal that this will cause is horrifying to think about, and to think we were staying as guests!” 

“I’ll start getting ready to leave, then. Shall I order the carriage to pick us up within the hour?” Ciel offered, suddenly agreeable and helpful. 

Francis eyed him skeptically before nodding. “Yes, please do that.” 

Ciel smiled obligingly. “My pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wouldn't have been possible without dragonsploosh's consistent encouragement and brainstorming and tasty-kate's brainstorming and beta-ing. You two are the bestest. 
> 
> I've also never done opium and had to do a bunch of research for this. If it doesn't match the experience, sorry friends, but I've only smoked pot a bunch? Don't do drugs they're bad, m'kay? 
> 
> Reviews are really lovely and super encouraging for me to continue writing.

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a slow start but it'll build, and there will be smut so hold your horses. This will be my most plot-heavy Kuroshitsuji fanfic thus far-- which is not saying a lot (don't get yr hopes up), but bear with me. I'm going to work hard to get the second chapter out as soon as possible. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my enabler Dragonsploosh and to my forever-beta tasty-kate. You both are fabulous. 
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated xoxoxo


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